


Dude, what's a bulwark?

by kellifer_fic



Series: bulwark [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellifer_fic/pseuds/kellifer_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ill-advised Gilmore Girls/Teen Wolf fusion. There is no need to be at all familiar with the source material. I actually think it helps to be as unfamiliar as possible.

"Coffee!"

"I'm starting to get a little uncomfortable about how much of a dealer I feel like for you," Derek says, pouring coffee into Stiles' outstretched cup anyway, then huffing and doing the same for Chester who is mirroring his father exactly. "I shouldn't even be giving _you_ any at all, it'll stunt your growth."

Chester rolls his eyes at the well-used joke. At six foot two, the fifteen year old towers over most kids his age. He's a beanpole of a boy, leanly muscled in a way that reminds Derek of Stiles when he'd first come to Beacon Hills. Stiles has filled out in the intervening years, still running lean but with broad shoulders and Chester is promising to be much the same.

Chester retreats from the counter while Stiles pulls himself up on one of the stools, his face already buried in his cup. Chester spreads out on the table Stiles has always claimed as _theirs_ , pulling out far too many books as is reasonable for the ten minute window he has before his bus cuts through town.

"You can't blame me, you gave me my first cup for free, got me hooked," Stiles says, tugging one of the newspapers on the counter towards himself and then pulling a face when he sees it's the Beacon Bugle. "Ugh, can't you get any real papers in here?"

"The real papers are available for sale at Terry's stand," Derek says.

"That's all the way outside," Stiles whines and drops his head dramatically onto the counter top, only to roll it sideways and edge it towards the muffin case. Derek picks the small case up and moves it before Stiles can get any ideas about chewing through the glass just to get to the muffins inside.

"You could buy your paper on the way in here, you have to walk right past Terry," Derek points out.

"That would require my brain to be doing something other than chanting _coffee, coffee, coffee_ at me before I've had any."

"One of these days I'm going to cut you off, or at least switch you to decaf."

Stiles sits up, gripping a hand over his heart with his eyes wide in horror. "You take that back, Hale," he says, sounding scandalized.

There's a flurry of movement behind him and then Chester is swooping in, snatching up Stiles' cup and stealing the last swallow. "Bye Dad!" he says as he ducks away to Stiles' indignant squawking.

"Betrayed by the fruit of my loins," Stiles laments, looking into his empty coffee cup before waggling it back in Derek's direction with big, hopeful eyes.

"Can you not say the word loins in my diner? It'll scare away the customers."

*

It was true. Derek had given Stiles his first cup of coffee on the house. He hadn't been able to resist the hollow-eyed teenager holding an infant that had snuck into his diner an hour after opening. He'd not only given Stiles coffee, but also a sandwich, fries and had sneaked a couple of apples and a wrapped muffin into his backpack when Stiles was distracted by Chester fussing. He hadn't wanted to spook the kid, but the way Stiles' too-thin shirt for the weather was frayed at the elbows while Chester's blanket looked new and warm had made something turn over in Derek's stomach and spurred him into the kind of meddling he usually hated in other people.

"I'm really sorry if I'm being rude, but you wouldn't be looking for work would you?" Derek had asked, wasn't really sure why at the time that he'd felt compelled to involve himself.

"Ah... it's..." Stiles had kind of jostled his tiny charge on one arm and the worn backpack he was towing on the other and Derek, without having any way to know for sure, was still certain that Stiles was completely on his own.

"Just, they're looking for cleaning staff up at the Crescent Moon Inn and I know for a fact Deaton is a sucker for kids." Stiles had looked down at Chester, but Derek had meant _Stiles_ , knew Deaton wouldn't be able to resist giving Stiles a roof and a way to earn some cash, even if he was just passing through.

"Oh, um."

"There's a free shuttle in twenty, leaves outside the bookstore across the street." Derek had offered the information like it was totally up to Stiles what he did with it. 

Stiles sat in his diner for the next fifteen minutes, stole out quietly when Derek was in the kitchen getting an order for a group that had just come in. He'd been strangely disappointed, thinking he was never going to see this kid again, never know what happened but later Deaton had called.

"I have you to thank for Stiles I'm assuming?" Deaton had asked.

"What the hell is a Stiles?" Derek had huffed in return.

*

Derek resisted everything about being involved in town life, except the town meetings. He mostly went to make sure Jackson didn't railroad them into anything he would hate or spend the town's meager funds on frivolous extravagances. Jackson, the mayor eight years running, ruled with an iron fist and a strangely old-fashioned and idealistic view of what the town should be.

He's sitting waiting for it to begin with the agenda in a tight fist, already ready for a fight since Jackson is trying to rezone the area his diner is in _again_ , when Stiles drops into the seat next to him. 

"Did you know-" Stiles starts to say and he's talking in the loud whisper that means everyone in Erica's dance studio can hear him. "That Chester is tutoring Isaac?"

Isaac is Derek's nephew, dumped on him by his sister's low-life of an ex-husband. Laura's passing was rough on them all, but mostly Isaac who'd ended up in Freddy's care and Freddy hadn't cared much for that, it seemed.

"I asked him to," Derek says, knowing that he probably should have run something like that by Stiles but Stiles has always been a little over-zealously protective of his son's academia and anything that threatened to take time away from it. Derek is surprised though that Chester, who usually tells Stiles pretty much everything, hadn't mentioned it.

"Isaac's a year above and in a different school. Why Chester?"

"Isaac's smart enough to be passing on his own, he's just unmotivated. I thought Chester would be a positive influence for him. He's a good kid."

"He's a brilliant kid, that's beside the point."

"If you don't want him to do it, you could just say that."

"I don't want him to do it."

"Why not?" Derek barks, a little too loudly and everyone goes from pretending they aren't eavesdropping to outright gawping. Erica actually makes Boyd switch seats with her so she can be closer to the action. The residents of Beacon Hills could never be accused of subtlety.

"If you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you," Stiles hisses, infuriating as always. 

"I'm sure that whatever Derek and Stiles are discussing is _fascinating_ , but if everyone could face front again so I can call this meeting to order, that would be fantastic," Jackson says from behind the podium. He's flushed and has his gavel gripped in a tight fist like he's been banging it for a while and no one has noticed.

"You think my kid is going to _taint_ yours?" Derek growls, completely ignoring Jackson, who bangs his gavel again, incensed.

" _What_? Of course not!" Stiles exclaims. 

"I will eject you!" Jackson shrills from up the front.

"That's what it sounds like to me," Derek argues. Chester has always been the town sweetheart, held up on a pedestal by everyone, including Derek. It was why Derek had wanted Isaac and Chester to work together, because he was hoping some of Chester's drive would rub off on Isaac and he would stop hiding in the partitioned off section of Derek's small apartment that was his makeshift room with headphones on and head buried in a book that was never school material.

"If you really believe I could think that, then I'm done talking to you about this," Stiles seethes.

"You're both done talking period. You're out!" Jackson says, flailing his gavel at the door.

"I'll leave. Derek has to stay because you're trying to rezone his diner into a parking lot again," Stiles huffs, getting up as the whole room cracks up.

"I... that's not what I'm doing!" Jackson yells, obviously having realized he's lost control of the situation.

Derek watches Stiles go and then slumps down in his chair. He doesn't like that he and Stiles do this, can fight about nothing but it happens all the time and he doesn't know how to stop it. It makes him tired. 

He flips Erica the finger when she makes a show of rolling her eyes at him.

*

Stiles doesn't come into the diner the next morning, but Chester does, looking sheepish. Derek knows the Inn coffee doesn't hold a candle to his and Stiles will be in a spectacularly bad mood when he finally has to give in and come back, especially since Derek doesn't let Chester pick up coffee for him and not a single other person in the whole town will do it.

He figures it's a good opportunity to try and find out from Chester just what Stiles' problem is so he can be prepared when Stiles will huff in, probably that very afternoon. 

"So, what's-"

"Nothing, god, it's not true okay?" Chester explodes, his cheeks going a vibrant tomato color. "You're as bad as Dad!"

"I didn't say anything."

"You were going to and I know, alright?" Chester grumps, dragging up to the counter. It's then that Isaac appears from upstairs. They both startle to see each other, then Chester goes an even brighter red and Isaac kind of awkwardly shuffles in place.

"Oh my god," Derek groans. "Really?"

"What? No, _nothing_!" Chester says, grabs up his bag and hurtles back out of the diner without ordering anything. Derek looks at Isaac who raises his eyebrows and then makes an overly complicated _whatever_ face to indicate just how unbothered he is about everything.

"Why Chester?" Derek groans. 

"Why Chester what?" Isaac asks, making his way over to the coffee and avoiding Derek's eyes like his life depends on it.

"People might think Stiles is cool and zen or whatever but he's basically sitting on a porch with a shotgun when it comes to his kid."

"We haven't done anything."

" _Yet_. I can hear the _yet_ in that sentence."

"So? What's the big deal?"

"Let me repeat myself. Stiles is a perfectly rational human being, _except when it comes to Chester_."

"I'm not going to break his heart or whatever."

"Aw, kid, I wish I could believe that," Derek says.

"Gee, thanks _Uncle Derek_. Nice to know I'm your priority here," Isaac says. He's still carefully blank faced, but Derek can hear the hurt under his words.

"I'm... god, of course you are. I'm sorry, okay? Just... does it have to be Chester?"

"He's the only decent person to hang with in this podunk town," Isaac says, tucking the book he'd been carrying under his arm so he can wrap both hands around his coffee mug. 

"Isaac-"

Isaac just skirts Derek and heads back upstairs. Derek resists the urge to bang his head on his own counter, wondering how he could have possibly handled that situation _worse_.

*

Scott McCall is a wonderful chef, Stiles' best friend and, luckily for Derek, a terrible liar.

"Is this extra large, triple shot with foam really for you?" Derek asks, right before he hands it over. He stares levelly at Scott until Scott ducks his face and mumbles an embarrassed _no_. "Well, you just tell Stiles it'll be here waiting for him when he stops pouting."

"You don't understand," Scott implores, wide-eyed. "Uncaffeinated Stiles becomes-" Scott leans over the counter like he's imparting a dreadful secret. "-almost like Lydia."

"Yikes," Derek commiserates as Scott nods, still sporting the large, dramatically imploring eyes. "It's still a no."

"Derek, ple-"

"Isn't that Allison?" Derek asks, happy to have spotted the one thing that can distract Scott. He whips around, already grinning brightly and watches Allison push into the diner with a large box of produce. He darts over to help her and Stiles' coffee is well and truly forgotten.

*

Stiles holds out an admirable three days before he slinks back in on a Friday afternoon, driven to desperation. "You know I need your coffee to gird myself for _the dinner_ ," he says when Derek pours him a cup, manfully resisting the urge to say anything else.

Derek knows about Stiles' Friday night dinners. He knows that a few months ago, Stiles had had to swallow his pride and approach his grandparents for tuition money if Chester was going to remain at Chilton Academy. Derek _only_ knew this because Stiles had stumbled in one night while Derek was stocktaking, drunk and maudlin. Derek had forced coffee and water on him in equal measures while Stiles lamented about making a deal with the devil.

"Are they that bad?" Derek had asked.

"They wouldn't help us when Chester was small. They weren't interested in him until he started showing potential, being someone they could brag about at their Country Club. You should hear them talk about him. It's like he sprung fully formed out of the ground and Bec and I never existed."

Fingers being snapped in front of his nose bring Derek back to the present. "Earth to Hale, come in Hale," Stiles says, smiling tentatively. "Look, I'm sorry for flying off the handle the other day. I just worry."

Derek wants to say _you shouldn't_ but he can't. He loves Isaac, loves that looking at Isaac sometimes he sees so much of Laura it hurts in the best way, but Isaac has bad boy first romantic disaster written all over him. Instead he says, "If we try to stand in their way, it'll all become more exciting and they'll get secretive. Do you want Chester to become a regular teenager on you?"

"God no," Stiles groans. They both know Stiles has been pretty lucky, Chester a good, untroublesome kid for the most part. Sometimes Derek thinks he's fifteen turning forty whereas _Stiles_ is the perpetual teenager.

"We'll watch them, pick up the pieces when one of them hurts the other one."

"You know it totally throws me when you're nice," Stiles says. 

"I'm always nice," Derek deadpans and Stiles cracks up, the tension leaving his shoulders. Chester pushes through the door behind Stiles, half of his long length still outside. 

"C'mon, Dad. You said you were just ducking in for coffee," he complains, swinging the door back and forth so it keeps hitting the bell. 

"Sorry, right," Stiles says, slides off the counter stool and straightens his clothes. Friday night dinners mean jackets and dress pants for both of them and Derek tries not to stare because the Stilinski men both cut very fine figures when they make even half an effort.

*

Derek is in the middle of throwing Jackson and his box of Winter Festival decorations out of his diner when the phone shrills behind him. He gives Jackson a final shove, then dives for the phone.

"Hale, we need you right now." Derek recognizes Lydia Martin's crisp voice immediately and he groans, taking a moment to hit himself in the forehead with the phone handset. He really needs to get a machine so he can screen calls.

"I'm kind of busy running a business."

"Isn't there some tall, mopey teenage with your genes just languishing about your apartment?" Lydia asks. "Make him mind your... cute little stall and get your ass up here."

"Lydia," Derek growls. He does handy work around the town sometimes. It's nice to get a little extra cash and he'll also take items in trade for the residents that might not be able to afford a regular repairman. 

"The kitchen is flooding, Scott is freaking out and Stiles is completely wet," Lydia says. Derek swallows hard at the image those particular words conjure and then Lydia, who is evil, has a grin in her voice when she says, "Super, I'll see you in twenty minutes."

Derek has a waitress, Hayley, but she doesn't come in till eleven on a weekday so Derek goes up to the apartment and pulls the blanket off Isaac's head. "Up, you're minding the diner."

"Wha...zu?" Isaac says, curling away from the sunlight he's been hit by like a grumpy vampire.

"C'mon, time to earn your keep," Derek says, jostling Isaac until he flails and hits at Derek to make him stop. 

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to go up to the Inn."

"Oh my god," Isaac says.

"What?"

"You're just totally whipped, is all," Isaac says, finally getting his feet on the floor. He'd slept in jeans and a hoodie which is convenient because he has no excuse to delay, Derek shoving him towards the stairs.

"By Lydia?" Derek snorts.

"No, not by Lydia," Isaac says, throwing Derek a _look_ over his shoulder.

Derek sets Isaac up downstairs before he grabs his toolbox and heads for his truck. The breakfast rush is well and truly over and Hayley will be in before the lunch crowd starts trickling in. He figures Isaac can handle making coffee and handing out muffins and toasting banana bread for the few breakfast stragglers. He tries to put Isaac's words out of his head as he drives.

When he gets to the Inn, Lydia is waiting for him on the wrap-around porch, tapping a pointy-toed heel impatiently. "C'mon, c'mon," she huffs when he ambles up the pebbled walk and she leads him around to the kitchen entry and through the door. There's water everywhere and Stiles is indeed in the middle of it, drenched to the bone and trying to stave off water jetting from a broken faucet with a towel. 

"Oh my god, why didn't you shut the water off at the mains?" Derek demands and Stiles pulls a face at him as he ducks back outside to do so. When he comes back in, Stiles is shaking himself out like a dog and then wringing the bottom of his sopping shirt out. Derek averts his gave from the flat curve of Stiles' bared belly and tries not to be troubled by how much of an effort it took to do so. 

"That would have been the logical thing to do," Stiles says as Scott appears in the kitchen doorway, looking stricken and muttering about everything being ruined.

"You're the least practical adult I've ever met," Derek grunts, moving over to the sink with Stiles shuffling in beside him, out of Scott's way who is scooping tubs of food into the trash and sounds like he's choking back tears while doing so. 

"You're _overly_ practical so it works out," Stiles says, still plucking at his wet shirt.

"How about you go get changed while I fix this. What even... how did this even happen?"

Stiles shrugs and then strips his shirt off completely, shaking again so that water droplets hit Derek's arms and chest. He reaches over and snags the dish towel from Scott's back pocket, starts wiping down his arms and his chest and Derek's mouth goes dry. Stiles catches him staring but makes a face and says, "Shut up, man. Not all of us can have Herculean physiques."

"That's not-" Derek bites down on the rest of his sentence because it was going nowhere good.

"Scott, shirt me," Stiles orders, holding out a hand and Scott does without protest, both he and Stiles with a penchant for layers which is fortunate, given the circumstances. Scott strips off his top shirt and hands it over, Stiles tugging it on. Stiles smirks at Derek for a second before he says, "Scott, pants!"

Scott actually gets hands on his belt buckle before he realizes what he's doing and scowls, flipping Stiles off.

"One of these days man," Stiles says, chuckling to himself. "When he's busy mourning produce I can get him to do almost anything."

"I'll do almost anything if you'll leave me in peace to fix this."

"Fine," Stiles huffs. "I guess I should go and warn the guests about trying to have a shower. I hope you didn't catch anyone mid-lather because that shit will cost me complimentary wine."

*

"As I live and breathe."

"In the back," Derek orders, the wagon squeaking sideways as Stiles completely ignores him and climbs up to sit shotgun. Derek is driving the hayride wagon at the Full Moon Festival and it's humiliating enough without Stiles' special brand of commentary.

"Nu-uh. No way dude," Stiles says, sounding far too chipper. He leans across and plucks something from Derek's hair, holding a bit of straw and smiling at it. "Oh yeah, this is just making my night."

"I thought you didn't like the Full Moon Festival. You always say it's too coupley for you," Derek complains. Generally he avoids it like the plague himself, but Dylan Jenkins who usually handles the hayride came down with the flu and Erica is someone that's hard to say no to when she's determined. He's pretty sure if Erica and Lydia ever joined forces, therein lay the apocalypse in cute shoes.

"Ugh, Chester wanted to come and he dragged me here then completely abandoned his poor old single father," Stiles laments.

"You're thirty-three years old. You can't be _poor old_ anything."

"I have a fifteen year old son. That automatically qualifies me for griping about my ancientness."

"Does that mean I can since I have a sixteen year old now?"

"Dude, you're thirty-six. You _are_ ancient." Stiles squawks when he's very nearly tumbled off the side of the wagon by Derek's elbow in his side. Derek catches a hold of him by the scruff of his shirt and hoists Stiles back straight with a put-upon sigh.

Stiles has made a lot of sacrifices for Chester, one of which being determined to make sure Chester is a priority and not bring anyone new into his household. Derek knows that now Chester is old enough to understand and accept it, it's only a matter of time before Stiles is taking up with any number of a dozen Beacon Hills residents that would gladly jump at a chance at him. Derek finds the whole idea oddly depressing. He'd felt less alone when he'd had someone to be alone with.

"Anyone offer you a bribe for an extra long, super special ride yet?" Stiles asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

"Gross," Derek huffs and Stiles kind of curls back into himself, props his sneakers up and sighs. It's quiet then, just the gentle stump of Mortimer's hooves, the quiet murmurs of the four couples in the back. 

"They made him a bedroom," Stiles says to his knees.

"What?"

"Mr and Mrs Evil. They made Chester a bedroom in their castle of doom. They want him to stay over sometimes, on the weekends maybe."

"Your grandparents?" Derek asks and Stiles nods.

"It was terrible. There were boy-band posters on the walls and dinosaur sheets. I wanted to laugh at them being so lame but Chester kind of looked..."

"He was happy?"

"It's just been me and him for so long. Is it terrible that I resent the hell out of them trying to involve themselves _now_ when all the hard work is done?"

"Of course not," Derek says, remembering the scared kid he'd first seen, how skinny and fragile Stiles had looked. Stiles has worked hard, from cleaning bathrooms to now managing the Inn and Derek knows Chester's great-grandparents had cut themselves off from the daughter they'd written off and her illegitimate son. Derek doesn't know much about Chester's mom or Stiles' own, Stiles always careful not to mention them, but his grandparents are a different story, Stiles constantly railing against them.

"Why don't you tell him?" Derek asks, because he's always wondered. Stiles lived in a room at the Inn for the first five years of Chester's life because he couldn't afford anything else, had to rely on the kindness of the townsfolk for the essentials for Chester and went without for himself more often than not. Derek knows he complains about the town alot, but they certainly pull together when it's a cause they believe in, and Deaton certainly made sure that Stiles and his son were that cause.

"Man, I can't do that to him. Chester likes to see the best in people and they're... it was just me and him for so long and he _craves_ family. He'd never admit it to me, but I can see it, how much it means to him that they seem to care...now."

"You're a good person," Derek says as they reach the end of the trail and the passengers alight, the next group waiting their turn at a roped off area being marshaled by Erica.

"I'm a crappy person with a veneer of good over the top, don't be fooled," Stiles says, grinning dryly before he pushes off the wagon and disappears into the crowd.

*

Derek knows he probably shouldn't turn the lights on in the diner when he sneaks down late at night, because it's inevitable that some drunken idiot will start banging on the doors, demanding to be let in. Scott appears to be the drunken idiot of the evening which is a surprise and then others appear behind him, Derek recognizing Boyd and Stiles amongst the group.

Derek goes up to the door, pointedly looks at the Closed sign and then glares. 

"C'mon man!" Scott yells through the glass. Derek knows it's Scott's bachelor party tonight. Most of the town is going along to the wedding tomorrow. Derek had been invited as well, probably because of Scott, but he politely declined because he knows that the Argents are still uncomfortable around him. It's taken Allison a long time to stop being awkward around him for what happened with Kate.

"Sorry dude," Stiles offers, apparently the only sober one of the group. He's trying to tug Scott away from the door but Scott's holding on, mooshing his face to the glass.

"I neeeeed pieeeeeee," Scott practically wails, now pawing at the door pathetically and Stiles in turn. The others are laughing and jostling amongst themselves, probably uncaring about where they'll be propelled next, inside the diner or away.

"Alright, fine," Derek grumbles. "If Scott pukes though, _you_ ," he levels a finger at Stiles as he opens the door, "Are going to have a very uncomfortable conversation with Allison in the morning about how her husband died."

Derek sets the others up with the leftover pies he had from the day before, all of them falling on the plates like hyenas while Stiles loiters at the counter, giving Derek _the eyes_ until he has a mug in his hands. "Wait, what is this?" he asks when he takes a sip.

"Hot chocolate. You don't need to be caffeinated right now."

"Booooo," Stiles says and Derek fights the urge to smile.

"How come you ended up sober Sally anyway?" Derek asks.

"We drew straws. Apparently my so called friends don't agree that the single father needs a night of sloshy abandon more than anyone."

"Your _friends_ are tired of you using the single dad card for everything," Boyd calls out. He seems the least messy of the others, blinking heavily but otherwise coherent.

"I do not!"

"Billy's a single dad and you don't hear him leveraging it to get his way."

"Billy's daughter is in Oregon, and she's _twenty_!" Stiles shrills.

"Soldier down!" Single-dad-Billy cries, throwing his arms up and Derek cranes over Stiles' head to see that Scott is indeed face-down on the booth table, snoring loudly. He thankfully didn't land on any of the pie plates.

"Oh geez, how am I going to get his ass home now?" Stiles groans.

"I have to take a bread delivery in three hours. You can leave him upstairs and I'll wake him up and make sure he's on his way in time to become human for the wedding," Derek offers.

"Seriously? You're a life saver," Stiles says as Derek rounds the counter and Boyd manages to get Scott, still snoring, upright enough to be towed up to Derek's apartment. When Derek comes back down from dropping Scott on his bed, the others have scattered to parts unknown but Stiles is still sitting at the counter.

"I'm assuming Chester is taking the opportunity of being alone to eat vegetables and study," Derek says.

"Hey, I feed him vegetables," Stiles says, frowning. "He's at Mount Doom though tonight."

"Oh that's... I didn't realize that would start so soon?"

"He knew I was doing this and he asked. He seemed excited."

"You shouldn't call your grandparent's house Mount Doom," Derek says although he's fighting a smile.

"Why? It's appropriate. My grandmother is a giant firey eyeball on top of a tower."

"Stiles."

"She goes through a crapload of Visine," he muses and that's it, Derek's done. He's laughing helplessly and Stiles is kind of staring at him with his mouth hanging open. When Derek manages to bring it under control, he glares and says, "What?"

"You just... I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I laugh," Derek says in his usual deadpan and this time it's Stiles who chuckles.

"So hey," Stiles says after finishing the dregs of his hot chocolate. "I could wait up and sign for your bread delivery if you want to catch some sleep? I've done it before."

"When did you sign for my bread delivery?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow.

"That time I stole your bread delivery," Stiles says, grimacing and rubbing at the back of his head.

"Stiles! That was you?"

"We needed it for the Inn. Desperate times."

"I had to make my own bread."

Stiles' eyes go a little dreamy. "That was a good day. Best burgers ever."

"I don't have time to make my own bread every day," Derek grumbles, irked. That had been the plan before Laura... before she had left. Derek would bake overnight and through the morning and Laura would run the diner during the day. "Look, it's fine. I'm better off with no sleep than under six hours. It's a thing."

"I could stay, keep you company?"

Derek's first impulse is to say, yes, of course, that would be great. He doesn't though, because he can see the fatigue stretching Stiles thin, making darkness bloom under his eyes. "Go home, get some sleep. You're going to be a best man in a few hours and I'm thinking the groom is going to need all the help he can get."

"Fine," Stiles huffs. "I'll be back for him at eight."

"I'll pour a bucket of water over him at ten to then," Derek says, smirking and Stiles waves as he heads out the door.

*

"So? Spill it," Erica demands as she sweeps into the diner. She's got glitter on her cheekbones and is wearing an electric blue dress that would be more appropriate at a club late at night than at seven in the morning in a diner. Derek figures she's going to the wedding like everyone else and Erica likes nothing more than the opportunity to go overboard.

"Spill what?" 

"A little birdie told me you had Stiles in here late at night, all alone," Erica says, her eyes gleaming. "Have you finally slipped him the ol' meat thermometer?"

"Ugh, Erica," Derek groans. 

"It's clear he has Derek fever and that's the only cure."

"You have no idea what you're talking about, and how did you really know he was here?"

"George's dog was barking all night again. I went for a jog to try and exhaust myself so I could pass out. _I saw him_."

"It's not what you think. He, Scott and their buddies came in after Scott's bachelor night. I gave them pie, Scott passed out and is _still_ passed out upstairs and Stiles was just the last to leave."

"Really?" Erica says, looking disappointed. "You guys need to resolve the awkward boners you have for each other."

"He doesn't... again, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? He's totally head over sneakers for you and I'm pretty sure you feel the same way."

"Totally." Derek looks over his shoulder to see Scott hovering at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to his apartment, scrubbing a hand through an unfortunate case of bedhead and looking bleary. 

"What?" Derek says, hating that he sounds kind of strangled. It's one thing for Erica to tease him about Stiles, but Scott, being Stiles' long time best friend, would actually know.

"People say _I'm_ oblivious," Scott snorts. "Stiles has had a major crush on you ever since you white knighted him when he was eighteen."

"A crush when he's a teenager and doesn't know any better-"

"Stop trying to talk your way out of what is obvious to everyone with eyes," Erica says, leaning across the counter to flick Derek in the forehead.

"You're saying I should be the one to do something?"

"Yes!" Both Erica and Scott cry together.

"God knows he won't," Scott adds. "He'll dither about it forever because he's still worried about Chester, but Chester loves you and I know you'd rather saw off your own arm than hurt either him or Stiles, right?"

"Of course," Derek says, no hesitation.

"What are we all talking about?" Stiles is hanging in the doorway and all three of them jump at the same time. Stiles kind of pulls a hilarious face at that, pleased with himself. "Wow, looks serious."

"Painting," Derek blurts.

"Painting?"

"As in the diner. Really needs it," Derek says. Stiles just stares at him for another beat before he looks around and then nods.

"Yeah, definitely. Hey, I've always been a demon at painting," Stiles says and Derek actually hears it for the offer it is for once. He always figured Stiles was being reflexively polite whenever he said things like that but now Derek wonders if it's simpler than that, it's just Stiles wanting to hang out, making an overture and waiting for Derek to pick up on it.

"I was going to maybe... tomorrow night, if you're free?" Derek asks, tries to ignore both Scott and Erica staring at the side of his face, enraptured. "I mean, only if you wanted-?"

"No, sure, I mean yes!" Stiles says quickly, then winces. "I, yeah, fine, sure," he adds, his cheeks filling in a lovely pink.

"Hey, isn't there a wedding we should be getting me to?" Scott interjects.

"Right, yeah, buddy c'mon," Stiles says, making with the _hurry up_ arms and Scott rolls his eyes. 

"Thanks for the bed," Scott tosses over his shoulder as he's herded out by Stiles.

"Thanks for the... advice about painting," Derek calls, hears Scott chortle and Stiles make confused noises as they leave. When he turns back, Erica is very nearly vibrating with glee. "Not a word."

*

The next night, at six when the bell over the door dings, Derek is finishing up sweeping in the back. He hurries out to the front, already smiling but it drops instantly. He recognizes the woman standing in his doorway immediately despite not having seen her for almost seventeen years.

"Kate."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly Diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.

Stiles is having a pretty crappy night.

Chester had come home full of angry woe at being paired up with a kid who'd made his life a misery at school for a project. He'd stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door when Stiles had suggested it was possibly a case of pigtail pulling on the other kid's part. His jeep had refused to start when he'd tried to set off for Derek's and even though it had been a nice night for a stroll when he set out for the diner from his house, it was pouring by the time he reached it.

He might've gotten a little soggier than necessary as he hovered outside the diner chanting to himself _don't fuck this up_ a few times.

"Sorry, I'm late I-" Stiles starts to babble as he falls through the diner door, only to falter when he notices that Derek isn't alone. There's a pretty, dark haired woman sitting on the counter who smiles at him when he manages to right himself and scrub water out of his eyes with his shirt sleeves. 

Derek's body language is screamingly defensive, but he's still curled towards the woman like he can't help it, expression closed off. 

"Am I, um, interrupting?" Stiles asks, because even though he was invited and expected, he still feels like an intruder.

He wants Derek to say, _of course not, this strange woman was just leaving_ but something inside him knows that this isn't going to happen. He looks at the drop cloths and paint cans scattered about forlornly, tries not to let it show on his face how disappointed he is when Derek says, "Sorry Stiles, can we... rain check?"

"Heh, rain check, literally," Stiles says, swinging an arm behind himself and then at his sodden state. He's been completely drenched in front of Derek before but the last time was a lot more pleasant than this. Derek had been all hot eyes and pink ears when he'd been at the Inn, Stiles boldly stripping off his shirt just to see what kind of reaction he got.

It was a good one. This though, with Derek not even looking at him, pretty much sucks.

"Yeah, sure," Stiles says, already apparently dismissed. The woman is looking at him like she's just waiting for him to leave and Derek is a bowed line of misery, unmindful of the outside world. Stiles pushes back out into the street and the deluge, resigned to a very wet walk home again. 

A truck pulls up beside him when he's at the end of the block and Stiles recognizes Erica before she sticks her head out. "Oh my god, Stilinski, you're half-drowned. Get in here before mother nature can finish the job."

"Thanks," Stiles says, grateful, and jumps up into the passenger seat of Erica's truck. "Did you um... did you happen to pass the diner?"

"Yeah, I..." Erica is looking at him with big, sad eyes. She hasn't pulled back out onto the street yet and Stiles hunches down further, feeling pathetic. "That's... I mean wow, terrible timing or what?"

"Do you know who that was?" Stiles asks, because Erica seems to be confirming Stiles' worst fears, that the woman isn't just some random stranger that's going to disappear as quickly as she'd come.

"You _don't_?" Erica says, then smacks herself on the forehead. "No, of course you don't," she groans. "That all happened before you got here."

"What all happened?" Stiles demands, suddenly very tired and feeling chilled to the bone.

"That was Kate Argent," Erica says. 

" _Kate Argent?_ Left-nineteen-year-old-Derek-Hale-at-the-alter Kate Argent? That Kate Argent?"

"There's only one, hon," Erica says, grimacing.

"Has she been back here since...?" Stiles makes a helpless gesture with his hands. He doesn't ever remember seeing her but she must have been back because she has local family. 

"She visits the Argent farm about once a year. Usually Derek gets prior warning and makes himself scarce."

"Wait. Is that the reason he takes those annual fishing trips and always looks really pissed off about it? I thought for someone that hated fishing that much he sure went a lot."

"Yeah. She must have snuck in this time."

Stiles wrings his hands for a moment, feeling young and stupid. "Can you take me home?" he asks in a small voice and Erica takes a moment to squeeze his shoulder before she does.

*

"What's up? Why are you the sad raincloud today?" Chester asks over breakfast the next morning. He's rebounded admirably after blasting angry music in his room for a few hours. Chester is a pretty resilient kid and tends not to pout for too long. Stiles wishes he were that quick to recover from trauma.

"The jeep died and I won't be able to get Beth to look at it till next week," Stiles says. "Scott's going to swing by and pick me up."

"Isn't he supposed to be on a honeymoon or something?" Chester asks, squinching his face up. 

"They're waiting till the end of the year when they can both take a proper break," Stiles says. 

"Hey, Isaac could look at the jeep. He's pretty handy with car stuff."

"I'm sure he is kiddo, but I think I'll wait for Beth to free herself up." He hates lying to Chester about anything, but the truth is, Stiles can't afford to get the jeep fixed until his next paycheck. All his money went on new school supplies and into the pay-the-grandparents-back-so-they-can-get-their-hooks-out fund. 

"But-"

"It's fine, really," Stiles says. "Scott's improved. I only saw my life flash before my eyes the once last week."

"Fine," Chester grumbles. "Hey, can we get a dog?"

"You want a dog?"

"Just thought I'd slip it in there when you were distracted," Chester says, grinning.

"I've already got one shaggy monster eating me out of house and home. I don't need another one."

"Ha, ha," Chester grunts, touching at his hair self consciously. He's been trying to grow it out, something about being more mysterious and Stiles takes every opportunity possible to tease him about it. 

"So, tell me about this project and the horrible human you've been saddled with."

*

Stiles talks himself and Scott into swinging by the diner before work. He doesn't want things to be weird, and avoiding Derek after their almost-date will definitely make the weirdness fester until it gets out of control and they're left barely speaking to each other and avoiding eye contact.

The diner is dark when Scott pulls up though, townsfolk milling around outside, disgruntled. "There's no notice," Harris Trilby says, waving a confused hand at the door that just has the regular Closed sign turned outward. "Usually there's a _Gone fishin'_ when he disappears."

"Good townsfolk," Stiles calls. "The Inn's breakfast service will start in half an hour if you want to swing on by."

The people milling about give Stiles odd looks. They're creatures of habit, locals going to Derek's for breakfast and the Inn only for special occasions, leaving it for the most part to the guests. Scott doesn't do the breakfast service, but Andy Mayfair does and he might not be Scott or Derek, but he's no slouch. 

"Er... I guess that's okay?" Harris says, looking at the others for confirmation and they all nod slowly.

"Great, see you there," Stiles says, clapping his hands and jogging back to Scott's car. Scott is hanging out the window, puzzled frown on his face. 

"Where's Derek?" Scott asks. 

"Dunno," Stiles says, shrugging and hoping he sounds more flippant than he feels. Scott's good at reading him though, his eyes narrow suspiciously. "To work, Jeeves," Stiles orders when he slides into the passenger seat.

"I suppose I'm going to have to help Andy considering you just invited half the town up," Scott grumbles. 

"Think of it as a challenge," Stiles says. "There's far too much resting of the laurels if you ask me."

*

The diner stays infuriatingly, stubbornly closed and dark for the next three days. Stiles tries not to let it bother him, but it seems like no one buy's the fake chipperness he's selling because Scott turns up on the fourth night, early, and says, "We are going to the Firefly Festival."

"Just how many damn festivals does this town have?" Isaac asks from the kitchen table he and Chester are hunkered over, studying. 

"This one's a fundraiser," Scott says.

"For what?"

"Oh, um...?" He looks at Stiles who shrugs. The beneficiaries of the festival change every year, depending on Jackson's whims.

"Puppies and orphans," Stiles offers and Isaac pulls a face at him, before his attention is drawn back to his books by Chester smacking him on the knuckles with a ruler. 

"C'mon, you've been Sour McGlower all week," Scott opines.

"No Allison tonight?" Stiles asks. He's very tempted, having missed quality bro-time with Scott because of the whole marriage thing. 

"She and Lydia are having a girl's night," Scott says, giving a little shiver because the prospect of that frightens him, as it should. 

"Well, I can't really leave-"

"Oh my god, Dad, we're fine. Isaac is going in an hour and I'm sure you'll hear from Derek if he doesn't."

"I don't think-"

"Dad, we're not doing anything, and we're not _going_ to do anything," Chester says. Isaac kind of twitches at that, looks like he's straining himself to keep his eyes down. Stiles is actually starting to feel sorry for the kid, that he's been worrying about the wrong boy getting his heart broken.

"Alright, fine. Just, don't burn the house down," Stiles says. 

"You're such an amazing parent. I swear, I'm taking notes here for my own kids," Scott says as Stiles grabs his jacket from the hall closet. Stiles huffs and gets Scott in a headlock on their way out, Chester yelling at them to _grow up_ as they go.

*

They'd been wondering around the festival for about an hour, beers in plastic cups in hand, when they spot Allison and Lydia.

"Um, hey! I thought you were going to take Stiles somewhere tonight?" Allison says, bounding over to them as soon as they hit the main part of the lit town center thronged with people and booths. Lydia is sauntering over a little more slowly, cotton candy in hand that she delicately plucks pieces from and pops into her mouth.

"This _is_ somewhere," Scott says, looking confused.

"We'd be the worst spy team ever," Allison groans and Stiles is about as confused as Scott, until he looks over Allison's head and catches sight of the elusive Derek, navigating through lines of tables with Kate attached to his arm.

"I'd agree with that assessment," Stiles says and Allison grimaces as Scott finally catches on, smacking a hand to his forehead. "So, they're just back together now? All's forgiven?" Stiles says, hates that he sounds so bitter.

"No, of course not," Allison says, gripping his arm. "Kate's only here for a few days. They just... they worked some stuff out."

"Really," Stiles says flatly. He's heard about Kate Argent from everyone in Beacon Hills except Derek. 

Derek spots him then, and Stiles braces himself for the mother of all awkward conversations, but then Derek leans down and says something to Kate, she smirks in Stiles' direction and they turn and walk the other way. 

"Wow Stiles, burn," Lydia remarks.

"Lydia!" Scott snaps.

"I'm going to head home," Stiles says.

"Wait, I'll drive you."

"Nah, dude, that's okay," Stiles says when Scott starts digging for his keys. "I kinda feel like walking."

Scott looks stricken, but Stiles just gives him a quick hug and walks away as fast as he can, trying not to look back and ignoring the people who call out to him on his way.

When Stiles gets back to his house, the jeep is gone from the drive and _that is it_. Stiles is completely done with this night and Chester is going to be grounded for six consecutive lifetimes without chance of parole. His phone vibrates in his pocket and Stiles gets it out and see Chester's number. When he answers, he starts yelling immediately. "Chester, I swear to-"

"Don't freak out." 

Chester's voice is pallid and meek and he's never sounded that way. Stiles immediately freaks the fuck out.

"What the hell happened? Where are you? What's-?"

"Dad! Just, promise you won't go nuts."

"I'm not promising a damn thing! You have three seconds to tell me where the hell you are kid or I'll-"

"I'm at the hospital."

Stiles' blood turns to ice water in his veins and for a second his whole world narrows to a tiny, black spot. He fights off the edge of panic because his kid needs him, but it sideswipes him pretty good and promises to return the moment his guard is down. 

"-just a sprained wrist," Chester is saying, when the rushing in Stiles' ears ebbs enough for him to be able to hear him. "They're going to X-ray it just to be sure but Doctor Boyd said it looked like it would be fine."

"You... I... I'll be right there," Stiles says.

"It wasn't Isaac's fault!" Chester blurts in a way that tells Stiles that it _was_ but he doesn't want to address that now. He just wants to get to Chester, maybe wrap him up in cotton wool and stick him in a giant human-sized hamster ball for good measure for the rest of his goddamn _life_.

"I'll be there soon," Stiles says and hangs up with an effort, even though he'd rather stay on the phone until he can see Chester with his own eyes. Stiles changes trajectory from his own house and heads to his closest neighbors. Lenore and her husband Boris have been their neighbors since they moved in and adore Chester. 

Stiles runs up their steps, bangs on the door. He's raising a hand to knock again when Boris yanks the it open, wearing sleep pants and with wild hair. He squints for a second before he's gripping Stiles' shoulder. "Hell son, what's happened?" he demands, which tells Stiles that he looks as awful as he feels. 

"My... it's... Chester's in hospital and I have no-"

"Christ, don't worry. We'll take my truck," Boris says, and he's leaning back inside the house to yell for Lenore before Stiles can say anything else.

*

"He's really fine," Boyd says. He's holding Chester's chart and eying Stiles warily, like maybe he wants to sedate him and stick him in a bed if he refuses to calm down.

"He was in a car accident, how can he be fine? What if he's bleeding internally?" Stiles knows he's acting crazy, will later probably be embarrassed about it, but he can't care right now.

"Oh my god, Dad," Chester groans from the bed he's sitting on with his legs dangling off the side. His left hand is wrapped in a bandage and he has a small cut on his forehead that's been taped over. "We hardly even hit the tree. The jeep's barely dented."

" _You're_ dented," Stiles says, frowning hard. "I'm going to wring Isaac's neck. Where is he even?"

"I told him I was fine, that he should go home," Chester says. "He stayed until he knew you were coming. He figured you probably wouldn't want to see him."

"He's a giant chicken."

"Dad!" Chester says, dropping his face into his hands, forgetting the cut on his forehead and making a hurt noise when he connects. 

"Kiddo, just... you don't understand how dumb this was."

"I do actually," Chester grumbles.

"Yeah, you really don't get to give me attitude right now."

"Sorry," Chester says, sounding contrite.

"Stiles, you wanna go out and sign his paperwork so I can get you guys home?" Boyd offers and Stiles glares at him for a moment, before he agrees. 

"I swear, if there's some kind of skeletal bruising-"

"Stiles, buddy, trust me. He's fine."

"Alright," Stiles grunts and pushes through the doors that lead back out into the main area of the ward. It's here he sees that Boris and Lenore have been replaced by Derek. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Isaac told me what happened. I came straight over," Derek says, like it's that simple.

"We're fine. You didn't have to come."

"I wanted to. I told Lenore and Boris they could go home, that I'd drive you guys back." Derek's clenching and unclenching his fists, jaw tense.

"You shouldn't have done that. I don't want anything from you right now," Stiles says. He wants to be angry at someone and Derek has stepped up to the plate.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that your unlicensed kid, that _you're_ responsible for, drove a car with my kid and _crashed_ it."

"I'll pay for the repairs."

"I don't care about the jeep!" Stiles yells. Three of the nurses sitting at their station turn to look at him concerned, but he ignores them. 

"Why are you yelling at me?"

"You're a placeholder until I can yell at Isaac."

"Look, he told me what happened. If you'd listen for a second-"

"I do _not_ want to hear you make excuses for him," Stiles seethes. "Not when he broke my kid."

"Maybe I should wait until you calm the hell down," Derek grates, always unable to resist getting angry when Stiles does. Stiles knows they fight a lot, more than normal friends do, but he doesn't exactly have the brain capacity to analyze what that means right now.

"Dad!" Chester hisses from the doorway, looking horrified.

"Chester, hey, are you-?"

"Just go, Derek," Stiles says, overriding Derek.

"How are you going to get home?"

"I'll call Scott."

"He never answers his cell."

"I'll call Allison then. Just... leave us alone."

Derek flinches like he's been slapped, then prudently retreats. Stiles watches him go, manages to hold onto his anger until Derek turns a corner and disappears and then he completely deflates.

"Dad?"

"You ready to go?" Stiles asks, turning on Chester and offering a wan smile.

"Yeah, just... are you and Derek okay?"

"Fine," Stiles says, shrugging. Chester doesn't look like he believes it and that's pretty much okay, because Stiles doesn't believe it either.

*

Stiles hadn't noticed the jeep in the parking lot on his way into the hospital, but he sees it now when he hustles Chester outside to wait for Allison. Stiles shuffles over to it, puts his head down on the dented hood and groans.

"We were trying to do something nice," Chester says from behind him.

"Not now, okay?"

"Seriously, Dad. Isaac got it running. We were literally just taking it down the road and back to make sure it drove okay and wouldn't die in thirty seconds and a deer ran out in front of us."

Stiles turns around slowly, looks at Chester who's hunched into himself. He can appear small and defenseless when he wants to which is a neat trick for such a tall kid. The whole bandaged wrist and scraped forehead doesn't hurt the aura of pathetic that's hard to resist forgiving.

"I told you I was going to get Beth to look at it when she was free."

"She _was_ free. I asked her yesterday. She said she hadn't seen you."

"Chester-"

"Look, I know why you... I know why you put things off, stuff that you need."

"You don't have to worry about that," Stiles says, feeling his heart ache uncomfortably.

"Am I banned from seeing Isaac?" Chester asks, and he looks so disheartened by the prospect that Stiles feels himself relenting even though he knows he should stand firm. 

"No," he sighs, defeated. 

"We wanted it to be a surprise," Chester offers again as Stiles approaches, gets an arm around his kid's shoulders and squeezes him. 

"I know."

*

It's a few days later and Stiles and Chester are eating lunch at Finstock's Sushi Emporium, which neither has Sushi, nor is much of an Emporium but there are stranger things in the Beacon Hills town limits. The diner is open again, but not really on an emotional level to Stiles so Finstock's it is. As Stiles watches Chester play with his food, he starts to worry that maybe his less-than-stellar mood has been rubbing off on his kid.

"What's up?" he asks, pasting on a smile and trying to rally. Chester is slowly tearing his toasted sandwich apart without eating any and usually Chester is a relentless nomming machine.

Chester mumbles something that sounds worryingly like-

"Did you just say that Isaac _kissed_ you?" Stiles demands. When Chester just nods, looking at his hands, Stiles frowns at him. "Okay, I know why I'm not exactly thrilled with that news, but you should be, right? It's your first bad-boy kiss. You should be nauseatingly cheerful."

"I pushed him into the lake," Chester says. 

"You what? Doosey's Lake? Why?"

"Because Derek is being an asshole!" Chester explodes. Stiles is glad not many people brave Finstock's so there's few witnesses to Chester's outburst. He doesn't need any more gossip or judgement in his life.

"Hon, why do you say that?" Stiles asks gently. When Chester just keeps worrying at his nails, Stiles sits back, tosses his napkin and says, "Well, that's it. I'm just going to have to figure out a way to kill the entire town. Maybe poison in the drinking water or explosives in the foundations of the buildings. That worked in Batman, right?"

"No one told me," Chester snaps. "I just figured it out. Everyone's mad at him and being super nice to us. You guys haven't seen each in a while and we're eating at _Finstock's_ even though Derek's got pulled pork sandwiches on his specials board today and that's your favorite."

"So what does that have to do with Isaac?" Stiles asks. 

"If Derek is being an asshole to you, I don't want to like Isaac either." Chester's mouth sets in a grim little line and he holds up a fist. "Stilinski solidarity."

"Oh my god, kid, I love you so much," Stiles says, dissolving into helpless giggles even though Chester continues to glare at him. "You know Derek and I fight all the time, right? We'll be fine soon, I swear."

"It's a bad one this time. Usually you won't stop ranting about him for ages to anyone who'll listen when he does something to annoy you but you haven't talked about him this time _at all_."

Stiles looks at Chester levelly, at this boy who's grown up despite him, even though he wanted to keep him tiny and sheltered his entire life. "Yeah, it's a bad one. It's got nothing to do with you or Isaac though. You shouldn't punish Isaac for Derek and I being uncommunicative dumbasses. He's probably sitting in his room crying to Celine Dion right now."

"Shut up," Chester groans. 

"Just, cut him a break when you see him."

"Okay," Chester finally sighs, looking a little happier.

*

Stiles is walking back to the Inn when a truck squeals to a halt and pulls haphazardly off the road in front of him. Stiles recognizes it and groans when Derek jumps out of the driver's seat and heads towards him.

"Oh god, what?" Stiles says.

"I've been looking for you all day. I kept missing you-" Derek starts to say and then Stiles notices where they happen to be, right by Doosey's Lake. He thinks that it can't be a coincidence, that it has to be a sign so when Derek gets close enough to him, Stiles reaches out, plants two hands firmly on Derek's chest and shoves.

Derek looks comically surprised as he goes into the lake. Stiles suddenly feels better than he has in _days_ , especially when Derek emerges, spluttering and with his usually perfect, gravity-defying hair flattened to his skull making him look enjoyably dorktastic. 

"I was going to ask you why you thought Chester pushed Isaac into the lake but apparently it's genetic!" Derek yells.

"I'd call it cathartic," Stiles calls back. "Maybe a Stilinski has to shove a Hale into a large body of water every now and again to maintain balance in the world."

"Lahey," Derek grunts.

"What?"

"Isaac, he's a _Lahey_ after Laura's deadbeat ex. I want him to be a Hale but I'm not sure if he'll want to be. I've been meaning to ask you-"

"Derek, are you seriously trying to have a heartfelt conversation with me while you're blobbing about like an apple in a rain barrel?" Stiles asks, incredulous. Derek looks around for a moment, like he's re-registering where he is.

"Oh, um, help me out?" Derek paddles over to the wooden walkway that crosses the lake and Stiles goes to meet him, but hesitates when he's just outside reaching distance. 

"Uh, maybe I should leave you there."

"What? Stiles!"

"Just to give myself a head start."

"Why do you need a head start?"

"I can see a punching in my imminent future, no need to hurry along proceedings."

"I'm not going to punch you," Derek huffs, sounding more aggravated than angry. "I probably... deserved that."

"Okay, I'm totally rescuing you only because this should be _fascinating_ ," Stiles says drily, offers Derek a hand and they both manage to pull him up onto the deck. Derek lays on his back for a moment, panting and dripping and Stiles thinks that it's fortunate that he's only wearing a Henley instead of his usual all-weather-leather because it would be a pity to ruin a jacket Stiles has wet dreams about.

"Lydia said-"

"You had a conversation with Lydia?" Stiles asks, surprised into interrupting. He'd mostly thought Derek and Lydia had a relationship based on glaring (Lydia) and wishing he were anywhere else (Derek). 

"A conversation would imply that I was allowed to speak," Derek says, sitting up and wincing. Stiles knows wet jeans aren't much fun in sensitive places.

"So, basically Lydia yelled at you."

"Yes. She's very protective."

"Of me?"

"You look surprised."

"Because I am."

"Most of the town's protective of you. I was starting to worry that people would throw rocks at me and boo as I walked by in the streets."

"Ugh, kill this whole town, I swear," Stiles grumbles but Derek just looks amused.

"Nah, it's nice."

"So you say."

"Anyway, I hadn't realized how what I was doing would look to you," Derek says. "I was too much in my own head."

"That never happens."

"Stiles, would you let me be the talker here for once?"

"It's a little odd for me, but sure, go ahead," Stiles allows. Derek shuffles around so he's sitting cross-legged in front of Stiles.

"When Kate surprised me, I felt all that old anger. It was like this cycle I couldn't escape. She'd pop up, I'd get mad and on and on and _on_. Except, when she came to the diner, I was going to throw her out and then make myself scarce like I normally do, but I thought of you."

"You thought of me?" Stiles says slowly. "So much so that you bailed on our da-" Stiles swallows, corrects mid-sentence. "Our _plans_ so you could hang out with your ex."

"It seemed logical at the time." Derek says and Stiles frowns down at his hands, at the bitten nails, a habit he can't seem to break no matter how old he gets. "I didn't want to be that angry, bitter guy anymore. Not... I wanted to be better than that for you."

Stiles looks up, mouth dropping open. "What?"

"Most of my adult life, I've had the specter of Kate hanging over me, over all my decisions. I didn't want to be like that anymore, so I let her in, let her say whatever she had to and then spent some time with her."

"I'm getting less thrilled about this by the minute."

"She always said she'd done the right thing, for both of us. The anger and the hurt were so close that I could never see it. Getting a little distance from them, I finally could." Derek pulls a face for a moment. "She did it in a completely crappy way and I don't pretend to understand how someone could do that but..." Derek shrugs helplessly.

"So what was blanking me at the festival about?" Stiles asks.

Derek grimaces. "Kate's not... she's not Allison okay? I just didn't want her anywhere near you because she knew how completely dopey I was for you and she would've been mean about it."

"Oh," Stiles says as Derek looks back at the lake.

"You and Chester have some impulse control problems," he muses.

"I kinda have the impulse to kiss you. Is that one I should control?" Stiles asks, makes a surprised noise when Derek grasps the back of his neck with a large hand and grins at him, so close his breath splashes across Stiles' cheeks.

"Next week. You can learn some control next week. Maybe," he says and pulls Stiles in.

*

"If I'd known it would have you turning up to my house in a tool belt, I would have made a pass a lot sooner," Stiles says, chuckling as he jogs down his front steps to meet Derek and Isaac. The damage from the accident to the jeep appeared to be mostly cosmetic but it had stopped running again so Isaac had volunteered to take another look and get Stiles at least on the road until he could fund the rest of the repairs.

Derek had pressed the issue of paying for the damages again but Stiles had waved him off. "I'm starting to understand the Isaac-Chester dynamic and I'm pretty sure that little adventure had _Chester's idea_ written all over it," he'd said.

Derek rolls his eyes, but he steps up to Stiles and drops a kiss on his cheekbone.

"Ugh, old people smooching," Chester groans and Stiles cuffs him on the back of the head. 

"Go bother Isaac," he huffs and Chester trots over to the jeep where Isaac is propping the hood up and checking out what he has to deal with. 

"Look how cuuuuute," Stiles gushes, hugging Derek's arm.

"Can you stop being a limpet so I can go and fix that wobbly porch railing that's been driving me crazy for months?"

"Is it weird that I find it really hot when you're fixing things and being crabby?" Stiles asks as he follows Derek up to the front of the house. 

"Why do you smell like berries?" Derek asks when Stiles sneaks in another kiss to the jaw.

"It's my strawberry lip balm. I figured I needed to take lip condition seriously since there'll be a lot of kissing in my future."

"Chester, I like you a lot but I think I have to break up with your dad!" Derek calls towards the jeep.

"I don't blame you!" Chester yells back. 

"Ugh, I balm for you. I expect some gratitude."

They work in silence for a while, or Derek works and Stiles kind of hovers around him and then drops onto the porch steps so he can lean back and admire the play of muscles over Derek's torso and back as he twists and shifts. Stiles likes that he can just look now, that it's not creepy, or at least less creepy because he's pretty sure Derek is a willing participant in the ogling. He's practically flexing under the attention.

"You never told me why you picked Beacon Hills," Derek says a little later as Stiles is zoning out, morning sun warm on his face.

"What?"

"Did you just end up here at random or...?"

Stiles blinks for a moment, trying to parse what information Derek wants. Derek's never really asked him anything personal. They tend not to go there with each other. Derek knows hardly anything about him pre-Chester which is kind of what Stiles prefers for most people, but he figures that this is Derek trying to nudge himself more firmly into Stiles' life, knowing about stuff that others might not.

Derek would completely drop the subject and never mention it again if Stiles told him to, but he _wants_ to open up to Derek. He's not sure he's ready to talk about Chester's mom yet, but he finds himself wanting to talk about his own.

"When my mom was getting sick, she started talking about _the one that got away_ , my dad. She'd never really talked about him, but I was always sure he was a good guy, even though I'd never met him. Her whole face would just soften when she mentioned him."

Derek's stopped working, frozen into inaction by Stiles' words. "Just before she... just _before_ , she told me where he'd lived when she met him."

"Did you contact him?" Derek asks.

"All I had was his last name and an old address," Stiles says.

"What's his last name?" Derek asks and Stiles just looks at him for a second, before he remembers that there's no way Derek would know, that anyone would know.

"Stilinski."

"What?" Derek says, genuinely surprised. "How-?"

"My mother didn't want to lump me with the Worthington name and all the strings attached to it. She and my dad weren't together very long but to hear her talk about him..."

"Where did he live?"

"Silver Lakes," Stiles says, watches the way Derek's face goes through a mixture of things when he recognizes the name. 

"Stiles, that's the next town over," Derek says slowly. "Oh my god, were you on your way there when you stopped in my diner? When I sent you to Deaton?" Derek's starting to look horrified and Stiles can imagine that he's wondering if he had a hand in derailing Stiles' original plan.

"I stopped because I'd already chickened out," Stiles says, trying to reassure him. "Man, this guy probably didn't know I existed and for me to turn up on his doorstep, eighteen years old and with a baby in tow? Nightmare."

"You have no idea-"

"I'd already been rejected by my own grandparents," Stiles interrupts to say. "I just... I don't think I would have survived being rejected by my dad too. It was better not to know."

"You could find out now?"

"I think that window of opportunity has well and truly passed. He's probably got a family. He probably doesn't even remember my mom."

"He'd remember her," Derek says and Stiles remembers his words. _Most of my adult life, I've had the specter of Kate hanging over me_. "If she was anything like you, it'd be impossible not to remember."

"I used to make up stories about him, in my head. When Mom got sick, I'd imagine him finding out, crossing deserts and streams, battling dragons just to get to us. Everything would be magically better and we'd be a family. What a loser, right?"

"Of course not, Stiles, Christ."

"I was brave enough to get here, to get this close but the bravery ran out. I had no idea what I was going to do when I came in here. I was just going to ask for a glass of water and maybe have a very quiet panic attack but then you... you were so kind and Deaton took me in and... "

"Stiles," Derek says, gently.

"I never thanked you properly, for that I mean. You really saved us."

*

"You know," Stiles says as he and Chester drop into the seats at their regular table at the diner. "When me and Derek get married, you and Isaac are going to basically be related, which means you macking on each other will be weird and creepy."

"Ugh, Dad!" Chester complains as Derek comes over to drop their coffee mugs on the table.

"Is that a proposal?" Derek asks, smirking and Stiles waves a dismissive hand.

"When I'm proposing, you'll know it. I'll propose the hell out of you," Stiles says and Derek chuckles, putting a warm, indulgent hand on Stiles' nape.

"Hey, what's this?" Stiles asks. There's a folded piece of paper under his cup. 

"Promise you won't get mad?" Derek says, which sets off all kinds of alarm bells to Stiles, especially with the kind of carefully freaked out way Derek's hand tightens on the back of his neck.

"Derek, did you pay for the jeep? I told you not-" Stiles' words die in his throat when he sees what's written on the piece of paper.

"I just figured it can't be a coincidence," Derek says.

"There's a um, Sheriff Stilinski in Silver Lakes?" Stiles says, voice breaking. 

"I just thought, if it were me... no matter how much time had passed, I'd want to know. We can call first, give him the opportunity to say that he doesn't want any contact but-"

"What if he doesn't?" Stiles' voice is barely there but he smiles a little when Chester's hand takes his, the one that's not currently crumpling the hell out of the paper Derek had given him. 

Derek's fingers thread through his hair, tug briefly the way Derek knows makes Stiles go heavy-lidded and pliable. "Then we'll deal with that, as a family," he says gently.

"Okay," Stiles says. He feels hands come down on his shoulders and he looks up and back at Isaac. He suddenly feels alive, like a completed circuit. Stiles carefully smooths out the piece of paper again on the table.

"Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> I am now [on tumblr](http://kellifer-k.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Title comes from a canon GG conversation between band mates Zach and Brian.


End file.
